


Promise.

by PrismaticDelight



Category: Original Work, The Amberwood Series
Genre: Gen, Pevrilious is a spymaster, just for fun, this is rough, yet it serves as a...backstory if you will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:53:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26094442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrismaticDelight/pseuds/PrismaticDelight
Summary: There isn't much to say, really. I just felt like writing something with that lil devil Pevrilious. But what happens still lends itself into the main story!
Kudos: 3





	Promise.

_BLAM!_

Cain whips upright, disoriented from being rudely awakened by his own head smacking onto the table. Forehead throbbing between the eyes, the Price shoves aside an open book smothered in old print barely large enough to be read without a magnifying glass. For a moment, when he glances at it, he’s forgotten why he’s chosen to drown in the sea of frail scrolls and dusty books. But a drawing of a vial neatly painted a striking red is reminder enough.

“Ah, so that was the noise I heard.”

When did someone else come into the library? Or rather, how? It can only be locked from within as it’s Cain’s personal study. He’ll be dammed if his parents attempt to use their authority to snoop the shelves of his private collection, which they have done before.

“So rarely do you read that I forget you can at all,” the voice goes on to chuckle.

“Pevrilious.” Cain sighs. Of course. Who else in the High Mountain alone can somehow slither through the cracks? If it weren’t for that, Pevrilious wouldn’t have a position in his parent’s Court as a spymaster. An outdated title, if one asked Cain. “I know how to read just fine, do not mock your future king.”

“ _Future_ king, assuming you live long enough to ascend.” A grey cloak flashes into Cain’s peripheral, the trim of gold made all the brighter against a dull color. Then, in the empty seat in front of him, the lithe man of vivid blue hair unceremoniously sits. “Therefore, I can say whatever I please.”

“You know, I have a record of every mockery you’ve made me. All four-thousand and sixty-four— five, as of now— times.” Cain remarks and leans back into his own seat, knocking the back of his head into the tall back.

Anyone else might pale in complexion or stammer to apologize and grovel for forgiveness. But not Pevrilious. Unfortunately. Oh, no, he gawks and sets a hand to his chest, dismayed. “Only four-thousand and sixty-five times?” Then, he claps his hands together with a sly grin. “How about I write you a book dedicated to your honor, my prince? I’ll make sure every page, front to back, is only my best work, I assure you.”

“Why have you come to annoy me?” Somedays, Cain would rather assign him as a jester than someone to infiltrate foreign land and relay secrets. 

Pevrilious opens his mouth when his eyes flit down to the scattered books, hands lowering into his lap. The smile fades. When his gaze seems to find something of attention, Cain does his best to follow the line of sight to…the bottle of red. He pulls the book out from beneath another and a sheet of loose paper, snapping it shut.

“Why are you looking into that?” Pevrilious asks quietly. His attention flashes back to the blue skinned Elf, prompting for an answer that doesn’t come.

Cain takes the book under an arm along with another seemingly at random then stands, taking both away from the table. Back turned, he strides to the shelves facing the room and disappears past a case. But Pevrilious is quick to follow, knowing it’s just an excuse to create distance. Thus it only takes seconds to relocate Cain shoving both books, where they definitely didn’t belong, into an open space between tomes.

“Cain, don’t dodge the ques—”

The Prince rounds on him so suddenly it almost catches him by surprise. _Almost._ The ferocity held in lavender irises is unmistakable. “If I tell you, you must rescind your oath to my parents.”

Emerald eyes narrow in silent question, in confusion. Pevrilious takes a small step back, incredulous. “You know I can’t do that. The _entire_ Court will breathe down my neck like vultures ready to feast.”

“You’ll swear to me,” Cain said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like it was foolproof. “Doing so will take the heat off your back.”

That makes him scoff and cross his arms, jutting a hip out. “Oh? Really? Because I seem to recall a similar tale with your Aph—”

“ _Don’t you dare say his name_.” The command is low and authoritative, it darkens the shadows and gives them weight. Not that Pevrilious buckles under them like others of the palace might, but he doesn’t ignore them either. Cain takes a breath to ease his shoulders away from his ears. “My parents may trust you, but I don’t.”

“Because I’m not sworn to you?”

“Because I know how fickle the loyalties of your kind can be.” Cain’s stare is cold and unrelenting, much like the words that were just spoken like a warning. A winter storm compared to Pevrilious’ own cat like, shifting eyes. The true eyes of a spy.

Pevrilious straightens his posture and pushes his shoulders back, rolling his lips. “I need to know what you’re researching before I blindly swear to you.” Cain’s stare doesn’t waver. “At least tell me if it’ll affect your parents.”

That makes him huff a breath as he looks aside, rubbing his jaw. “If what I suspect is true… then yes, it will.” He turns back to the male. “It’ll affect _everyone._ ”

“How many is ‘everyone’…?” Pevrilious slowly asks, as though doing so pains him.

“Us. The Light Elves. The Fae. Vampires.” Cain laughs humorlessly. “For all I know, it could affect an Angel.”

A steady nod bobs the spy’s head, azure hair catching candlelight that brings out the unusual jewel tones beneath. He stares off to the side for a tense moment only to nod again, faster this time. “I won’t sever ties to the crown, not yet. Even if I immediately swore to you, it’d bring unnecessary attention that I’ll assume will get in the way of your… investigation.”

Cain’s brows lift in brief surprise that’s quickly taken over by firm understanding as he leans a shoulder in the bookcase beside him. “That’s a fair point. I have no need for a spymaster, not as a prince. My parent’s enemies aren’t so bold as to come for me, and neither are my own people. Taking you out from under the crown puts a target on my back.”

Pevrilious grins mockingly. “You picked that up easily. Gold star for you.”

He glares. “The only reason I’m telling anything at all is because of your skill set. You are, otherwise, the last person I would entrust with information that could very well lead me to my own execution.”

The grin falters. “ _Execution_? They would kill you _for this_?” Pevrilious gestures to their surroundings loosely.

Cain’s glare softens when he looks down to the space between them. “Yes, which is why I needed your oath. But seeing as how I wouldn’t have your help without it… I’m having to put my faith in you blindly.”

The silence if short-lived before the blue-haired spy inches closer and ducks down, trying to catch Cain’s eye. “Cain, what are you getting yourself into?”

“Trouble. Mischief. The usual.” Shrugging off the concern, Cain pushes off the shelf and takes a step around Pevrilious. But not before being caught by the wrist that gently tugs him back. Confusion settles on his face as he complies with the motion. “What?”

“I may not be able to swear to you, Prince Cain, but you can to me.” Pevrilious said grimly, meeting his eyes. “Swear no harm will come to you. That in your quest for answers, you come back in one piece.”

“You’re a spy, Pevrilious, what does my health and safety have to do with you?”

“Everything, if I don’t have a king to serve.”

“You could find someone else to work for. Or go solo for all I care.”

“Perhaps I don’t want to.” The grin returns and flashes pearly whites. “I quite like the idea of staying here, on the High Mountain. I like the view here.”

Cain rolls his eyes, unaware that he hasn’t yet pulled his wrist free still encased in Pevrilious’ gloved hand. “Fine. I swear I will remain as safe as any situation allows and to come home alive and not missing any limbs.”

Surely, they both know such a promise is bound to be broken. It must be why Pevrilious didn’t have him swear on the crown or, heck, Styx, or on the lone great tree that stands center of the Dark Elves home. He wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t have to.

He wouldn’t be doing this if leaving it alone meant nothing ill would come onto those unsuspecting.


End file.
